What Binds Us
by Jane Caulfield
Summary: Like treading on thin ice, that string could snap and break. But it doesn't. Ratings vary from T to M. A collection of oneshots, drabbles and ficlets.
1. What Binds Us

Title: What Binds Us

Ratings: Varies from T to M

Summary: Like treading on thin ice, that string could snap and break. But it doesn't.

Disclaimer: Hajime Isayama's

* * *

When Mikasa first moves into the Yaeger's household, she is just but nine. And nine is unfortunately, quite a number not so favorable at all. She shifts uncomfortably to her side as she stands in the corner of the small living room. She makes a mental note to remember the tiniest details the house has: the scent of gardenias coming from the dining room, the partly opened window by the sink, the creak of the wooden floorboard when she steps on it, the way Carla lectures Eren as she was kneeling before him, running her fingers through his boyish hair, then clutches his shoulders as her eyes dart him questioning yet motherly stares.

"Eren," she seethes, her voice firm yet shaky. "Promise me you'll never do something like that ever again."

"Mom—"

"Eren!" her voice rises and for a moment, it makes Mikasa freeze. Carla's eyes cannot contain anymore and so she bursts into tears. "Why do you always have to be stubborn? Can't you just obey what your parents say?"

They are all like that for a moment; Mikasa standing uncomfortable before the two of them, Eren preventing his tongue to go loose, and Carla, bearing the weight mothers always carry with young and naughty boys. Grisha leaves the three of them and prepares the extra mattress and blankets to let.

Mikasa clutches the red put upon her neck; it is reassuring and safe. She feels its warmth encapsulating the whole of her, and Eren's smell overwhelming all her doubts.

She looks at Eren and he looks back at her. She feels red filling up the white in her face as Eren stares into her direction. She quickly diverts her stare to the floor instead.

"Mikasa," he whispers, as faint as a fairy's light kiss but to Mikasa, it was the clearest thing she has ever heard.

"Wh—what?" Carla leans in towards Eren so she could hear him.

"Mikasa." He clears his throat. "They were going to take her, they're monst—"

Carla cuts him by pulling him into an embrace; it is partly done because she loves her son very much, and partly because she wants to shove all the hate that blossomed from who-knows-where inside the young boy. "Well, they won't be taking her away, right?" she says through her sobs.

Carla pulls away from the hug and wipes off the tears from her face. Eren holds her hand and she smiles in response. She turns away from him and stands up from her current position. "And you, my dear," she faces Mikasa. "make yourself at home."

Mikasa's eyes hold the faintest stardust that is miles away from visible sight, but it burns and dances with hope. She breathes the dew of late summer rains, and cries as Eren holds her wrist and leads her home; _their_ home.

The moment she is washed off the stained blood and steps out of the bathroom, she cannot help but feel uncomfortable once more. She is stripped off of her pink pastel duster and loosely buttoned sweater. Eren lends her his clothes for the night.

"That will do," Carla says as she puts a finger under a chin as she studies the little girl. "We'll wash your clothes tomorrow then we'll be off to town to buy some fabrics. Do you know how to sew?"

"A little. My mom taught me a few stitches." She feels the texture of Eren's clothes make contact with her skin. She then lets her fingers reach the red scarf once more.

"I sew that one." Carla says, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Eren helped in stitching too. But he's just stubborn."

Mikasa looks up from her scarf to Carla.

"I know I've said this before, but make yourself at home, Mikasa. This is now your family."

She blushes at her remarks. For a split second, she is convinced that the world has abandoned her, that rocks are to be thrown at her and it would scar her skin and mark down through her bones, but now she is sheltered by all the love from a family she barely even knows.

"Thank you, Mrs. Yaeger."

* * *

That night, they make sure that all the doors are securely locked, and all windows closed. They cannot afford another breakthrough from strangers.

Grisha takes out their extra mattress, blankets and pillows. There are just two sleeping rooms in the house so both Mikasa and Eren should make do with Eren's room. Mikasa being someone new and still terror-stricken and not to mention a girl, gets to sleep on Eren's bed. Eren on the other hand, sleeps on the floor and helps Grisha setting up with his bed.

She settles herself on the bed and pulls the blanket over her. Eren is still shuffling underneath his covers as Grisha and Carla stand by the door.

"It's been a long night." Carla says as she holds a candle with one hand and the other one clutching the doorknob. "Sleep tight, you two."

The click of the doorknob is followed by a loud roguish yawn. "Hn, good night, Mikasa." He says through his yawns.

She closes her eyes for a few seconds, "Good night, Eren." They doze off to sleep.

A few hours later, Eren is awakened by soft whisper-like sobs. He rubs his eyes ruefully and sits himself up shifting his weight to his arms. "Mikasa?"

"Ahh," she brushes off the tears staining her face. She is clearly awake, and has been crying for quite some time. Hours, maybe? She pulls up her knees to her chest and hugs her, her fingers bury through her flesh. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I—I, uh, I'm just—"

"It's okay. That why Mom agreed we both sleep here. She said you might have nightmares."

"It's not nightmares." She mumbles.

He kicks off the blanket and stands up. It takes him quite some time for his eyes to adjust in the dark, but Mikasa is clear to him. She is frail and soft and weak at the moment. He sits at the corner of the bed and places a hand on his mouth as he yawns. "You have me." Is what he says. "You also have mom and dad. We're your new family. And this is your home. You can stop crying now."

She nods at what he says. Somehow, she stops crying when Eren tells her so. "Thank you."

He climbs and makes his way under the sheets. "Could you scoot over?"

She scoots over to the side and lets Eren adjust to his side of the bed. She lies back down on the bed with Eren.

"I still think it's unfair, you know, with you getting to sleep on my bed."

"I'll sleep down there, if you want."

"Nah, no need. We could just share."

Eren quickly falls asleep while Mikasa studies him despite in the dark. He is brown hair and green eyes and playful grins and raised voice and haughty stares and obnoxious remarks and grass stains and dirt-and-sweat-and-orange scents. Unconsciously, she places a soft hand through his chest and feels his heart. He is, she adds, a vibrant beating heart.

* * *

"_There were three of them;" _that she is sure off.

There are three of them, three monsters who cut off the thinnest ropes she is tied upon. One, killed her dad, the other her mom, the other attempted to do the same to Eren.

What she sees are: blood and red smeared on the floor, on the men's hands, on her mother's sewing scissors, on her father's chest, on the crest of her mother's face. The three men bear eyes filled with malice and a lingering fear that is imprinted down in the very soul of her.

Then, as swift as the wind, she is knocked out off bare consciousness.

She awakes in a place she doesn't recognize. The men must have brought her there. At the moment, Mikasa is not too stupid to take note of obvious details; she cannot scream or shout for any help since the place is probably a remote area. She cannot run for her hands are bound behind her. She is just but a helpless girl who is in forlorn and pain.

"Look at her," says the man sitting by the table.

The other man approaches her and shoves her to her back with his feet. Her stomach screamed in pain but she is too pained herself, she cannot bring herself to react at all. "Pretty face, but she is all too young."

"Pervert," the first man seethes through his teeth. "She's an Oriental, and they are quite a price. We'll sell her off to the black market and let a pervert have her then we'll have sweet fortune."

"That sounds nice."

"Nice my ass." He scoffs. "You killed the woman; I said you are only allowed to kill the man. She's the one who would have cost the fortune. She's pure Oriental."

The man besides Mikasa chuckles nervously. "She is a beauty anyway." He leans down to study Mikasa's face intently. "She'll still do."

There is a knock on the door.

It happens all too fast for Mikasa to fully register what is happening. The boy standing before the door is all frightened and appeared what seemed cold then all of a sudden, he launches for the man and sticks a rusty knife through his chest. A few minutes later, he is hovering over the other man and repeatedly stabs on his torso. Blood drapes all over the place.

Mikasa thinks she has never seen too much blood in just one night.

He kneels beside her and cuts the rope that ties her hands. "You're Mikasa, right?"

She nods.

"I'm Eren. You know Dr. Yaeger? Well, he's my dad. He was supposed to pay you a visit for a check-up but he found your place a complete mess."

She rubs her wrists; there are marks left by the tight grip of the rope. "There were three of them."

"Wh – what?"

The door bursts open and a man stands before them, terror-stricken and somewhat stuck in his place by what he has seen.

"Wh—what have you done?" he whimpers. "Yo—you did this? You rascals." He breathes hard through his gritted teeth.

The man eyes the two of them then Eren looks back at the man. He has placed down the knife awhile ago after cutting. Eren quickly dives for it but the man was quicker than he is. He brings Eren up to the air, clutching him by the neck.

"You killed them!"

"Eren," Mikasa tests his name in her tongue, but her voice is raspy, inaudible even.

Eren's face scrunches at the pain; he tries to untangle the hands gripping his neck, but it is of no avail. "Fight," he says through limited air. "If you don't fight, you lose."

Mikasa thinks she has seen too much blood. But she doesn't know that there would be more blood splutters and it is because she has held a knife and a rueful boy tells him to fight.

* * *

When Mikasa first has it, she thinks that she is sick. Putting aside the dreadful night, blood is associated with being sick, right? Or so she thinks.

It is a late afternoon that day; Mikasa has been living with the Yaegers for almost a year. Carla asks her to wash the dishes as she pours out some berries in a bowl of cream. At the moment, Mikasa is not feeling well. She feels torn and twisted inside. Her appetite is just the same and the food doesn't taste funny or weird; it is just her insides not working well.

"Mikasa?" Carla looks down at her.

She looks back at her with unknowing eyes. "Yes, Mrs. Yaeger?"

"Are you okay? You look quite pail today."

She nods politely. "Yes, I'm fine."

Truth be told, she is not even the slightest to being fine. Whatever it is inside, it is killing her. She does not wish to bother Carla or any of them with her wimpy cries since she's already bothered their dear quiet lives. It is when she walks away from the sink to place the dishes in the rack does Carla know why Mikasa is not feeling well that day.

She walks near Mikasa and kneels down to be as tall as her size. She smiles dearly at Mikasa and holds her wrists. "I'll help you with that."

Mikasa looks at her and asks her through her grey pools what is happening.

"It is okay," Carla assures her. "It happens when little girls turn to ladies."

When she steps out of the bathroom, Mikasa is paler than she is before. It doesn't frighten or terrify her just as much as when she sees the blood smeared at the floorboard of her home when her parents are killed though. She just wonders and wonders: where does all the blood come from? She doesn't know if Carla is telling the truth of being a lady. She thinks it is a rather funny thing to say, considering that ladies and grown-ups know a lot of things while Mikasa knows not even less than half of the world and its truths.

Later that night, Mikasa does not share a bed with Eren. She is too scared of him seeing the blood has she tossed and turned too much. She is still too embarrassed with the whole thing, and she does not wish to be reminded of it. Eren on the other hand, is convinced that maybe Mikasa is now recovering from her nightmares; Carla is quite happy of the disposition the two of them are putting, thus making it easier for her to talk to the two of them about certain _things._

* * *

She accidentally pricks her fingers with the needle. She sucks at the blood.

Mikasa usually pricks her index fingers with a fine needle when her mother teaches her some stitching. Someday, she will do all the mending of her clothes, and knit some sweaters for when the weather is cold, and do some purl and cross and crochet stitching.

It feels the same with Carla; after all, she learns to consider her as a mother.

Sometimes, Mikasa thinks that Carla has done a lot compared to her own mother. She tries to shove the idea away; it is not her mother's fault, nor Carla's, nor hers.

It is Eren's parents who gave Mikasa the _talk._ Once in a while, during the course of their conversation, a light blush would creep to her cheeks. She tries to hide it by pulling the scarf up to her nose.

Of course, Carla does not fail to notice this. And she knows at that age, Mikasa is yet but a child, but she thinks that her son is whom she is thinking of.

"You love someone, and you trust him; with your everything and all." Grisha says.

Mikasa blushes more, and Carla can't help but smile at the thought. And as Mikasa blushes, she feels a thousand needles prickling her all over.

* * *

"See you later, Eren," is what he hears in his dreams.

In his dreams, there is the surge to fight and flickers of vengeance from humanity. But when it snaps, he is quickly in another dreamscape.

What he sees are constellation of black tamed hair all too short for a pretty girl-child like herself; it frames the corners of her face and her chin too nice, pink chapped lips that are slightly parted as words escape through her lips and small smiles playfully tugging at the corners, and red. Endless red.

"Are you alright?" Mikasa asks him, as he awakes from his dream.

His eyes flicker for a few moments. He shifts uncomfortably under the covers as he tries to understand what he has seen. "Hn, I think so." He rubs the nape of his neck as a small candle stands at a stool near the bed.

"How long was I out?"

"Hours. You slept all throughout the day."

He runs his hands through his stressed face. Surely he has not been sleeping that long. They are in the middle of the experimentation and he knows that he better brace himself for further interrogations from Hanji.

"Why aren't you still asleep? It's already late." Eren says, facing Mikasa as he manages to look outside the window.

"I just thought on looking up on you."

Eren scoffs at her remarks. It is just Mikasa being Mikasa. Sometimes, he just wants Mikasa to stop tailing her, maybe find her own pace. But then again, without even fully acknowledging it at all, he does not want that idea, so he shoves it from his mind unconsciously.

He looks at her; she is fiddling at the loose hem of the scarf that is warmly wrapped around her neck. Then he is reminded of the dream; the scarf. He looks at her hair. It is short, like her hair in his dream. He closes his eyes and tries to remember what it was back then. Mikasa back then is of pink dress and warm sweater and sweet little daughter-like and kisses of sweet rainwater and gardenia scent.

He sighs heavily.

"Eren?"

"Hm?" he raises an eyebrow.

"What are you thinking?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing. It's just—" he hesitates.

"What?"

"Nothing." He repeats.

Eren is not sure if he will tell Hanji or Levi or even Armin or Mikasa of the dreams with her in it. He has been passing through weird dreams, and perhaps, these might be the memories his father is referring to; the memories that are somehow forgotten as the syringe sinks deep to Eren's skin. But it is inevitable.

* * *

They are skin to bare skin and hearts against beating hearts. His teeth dig in deep through her moon-kissed skin and she leaves him a nervous trail of kisses. She kisses away everything she is afraid to put into words; so does he. She can hear his heavy breaths clouding her as he hovers on top of her. Mikasa stares at his teal eyes and cups his face and draws it near hers.

She kisses him, and he kisses her back. The warmth of her body brushes against his, and it is enough to make him breathe so fast. She swears that through the kisses they give and the contacts made, there are soft whimpers and cries that secretly escape from his lips. She breaks apart, not for air, but for words.

"I love you," is what she says.

Eren does not say anything. He isn't surprised or disappointed though. He pulls up from atop of her, and she sits up.

It hurts, Mikasa thinks. She casts her net on a hope-filled sea, only to her dismay that all of it slips off through the holes it bear. But she does not tell him that. She claims that she loves him, and she says it because he needs to hear it so.

They are like that for a moment. Not moving, nor touching. Both of them reaches out for the other, and yet they are a universe and eternally apart. She holds back the tears, but it slowly paints her face and makes the already pale canvass duller.

"Someday," he whispers. "we'll have it. We'll have a home, and I'll be able to stay with you. I promised you that, remember?"

Mikasa does not respond. It is an occasion so rare to hear Eren speak of his promises; he does not need to speak of it again. He means it, no matter what. He lies back down on the bed and pulls her back under the covers. Tiny whimpers escape her rough lips, and he tucks her beneath his chin as he holds her near through her waist. She places a hand on his chest, something she does out of habit that started when they are still but children. She does it to assure her that he is alive. He is with her, he is of mirth and deprived laughs, of gossamer thoughts, of boyish grins and mother's worries, of snipped and stitched, teeth and bones and everything in between. He is Eren and she holds him dearer than anything else, more than her own life; he is after all, her life.

He holds up her chin and kisses her. "I'm sorry," he whispers then kisses the crown of her head. "But everything is out of place right now."

She nods. "I know."

Before she dozes off to sleep, there are a few tears that race down her eyelids.

* * *

First, Armin takes off his shoes and stands before the shoreline. They watch behind him, as the water runs through his toes and how it tickles the sole of his feet.

He starts chuckling and kicking and the water starts splashing around. "What are you two waiting for?" he calls out. "The water's fine!"

Armin leans down and cups a handful of seawater and sprinkles it in the air.

They eagerly approach the shoreline and look at the sea; it is far beyond that what they know. It is the promise that was once seen as unreachable to them, but they have reached it. And all they need to do is to grasp it harder and draw it nearer to their hearts.

What Armin has described back then, and what he has shown them in his picture books are far too different than what it really looks like. The sea is abundant and interminable, like the universe itself with a thousand clusters of lost stars. It has millions of shades and hues of blues and greens and all the colors combined. It reflects the skies above as it, with grace, ebbs and flows through the wind.

Eren looks at Mikasa; she is looking at the horizon and she seems amazed by how it seems endless. She still plays at the runs on the hem of her scarf. He laces his fingers through her hands and it awakes her for a while. "Hey," he offers her a small smile.

She smiles back at him and squeezes his hand. "It's lovely." She whispers.

"I know." Eren places a soft kiss on her forehead and he encircles her with an embrace. He unwraps the scarf from her neck then adjusts it securely. _This is what binds us together._

"Thank you, Eren," she cups his face and he feels her soft breath tingling through his neck. "for everything."

He dips his head and kisses her with all she ever needs to know. He spills all and everything, the world and the seas.

"What are you guys doing? Come on!" Armin shouts at them.

"Look who's jealous!" Eren teases as he pulls Mikasa toward the sea.

"You can kiss each other for as long as you want, just don't waste this moment. We've been longing for this ever since!" Armin smirks back at them, making Mikasa's face burn bright red.

She feels tingles running down her spine as the sea clutches on her feet then up to her ankles, then through her calf.

They splash and kick and pull each other down; they were sea-soaked and of gasps and chuckles and roguish laughs. The three of them remain like that for the rest of the day, soaking under the sun like they have never seen something as abundant as the sea before.

A/N: Fuck present tense; I'm so not used to it. Omfg, that's a first. I don't really upload fanfics, and this is the first time, though I've written some before. Is it that trashy, with all the exploration on sexuality and depictions on their relationships? Gosh, I'm so conscious right now.


	2. Walls

Title: Walls

Summary: Mikasa clings, earns, longs and reaches out to him.

A/N: Originally posted in tumblr.

So um, I planned to urgh, I dunno, commit my life to SnK fandom. The results are evident. I also converted this story as a collection of oneshots and everything in between.

* * *

Mikasa clings and earns and longs reaches out to him. To her, Eren was the brightest among the thousand-mass stars and she feels as if she was the dullest breath of air. No matter how many times she attempts to be heard or seen, it is useless. And in the end, all she ever does, when she is convinced that no matter how close they are to each other and still worlds apart, she just clings and earns longs and reaches out to him through the worn out red scarf.

It is an inevitable state to see Eren in everything beautiful. He simply is life. It is already inflicted through her demented mind, and her poorly crushed aching heart, and her scarred calloused hands that tense whenever it brushes against the warm flesh of Eren. It is carved, and when it is, it immerses through and within and beyond every part of Mikasa.

Sometimes, Mikasa thinks he is simply just elusive; he builds up walls taller than what is created for the grim humanity that borders against those titans. She thinks he delves in his ghosts and she tries and tries and tries to be understanding, but then again, she has her own broken penchants of ghosts and rocks and bones that still lingers behind her. Her chalked eyes and her breaths with the voice of the dull moon bite her, hard to the rivers in her soul, and all she does is nuzzle the red scarf around her neck.

"What is it?" he asks, one night. They are chopping some woods outside their temporary barracks. The newly formed squad of Levi just moved in the small cabin, and their task for the night is to pick up some firewood.

She shoots him a hesitant stare and shakes her head. "It's nothing," she sighs.

Eren collects the pile of long chopped woods and places it to the base of a tree near him. "You know you should get back and rest." He said, as he leans forward to grab more firewood. "You're not yet fully healed."

She doesn't say anything. She just sighs and closes her eyes. Mikasa tries to help Eren collect the firewood; Eren is right though. She isn't fully healed yet. Her leg still aches whenever weight is put upon it. She just bites her lower lip and tries to hide the pain from him.

He quickly goes to Mikasa's aid and drops the firewood he is holding. He shoves her arm around his shoulder, giving her a firm support. He feels the tiny cold breaths escaping from Mikasa's hidden pain tingling through his warm neck.

Mikasa feels heat rise up to her face. She feels small traces of shiver crawl down to her skin and spine as it makes contact with Eren's. She tilts her head downward to hide the flush that was building up in her cheeks.

"Eren," she breathes. "You can let go now. I'm fine."

He rolls his eyes to her remarks and sits her down to the ground, her back resting against the trunk of the tree. "Stop being so persistent. Just rest, ok?"

"I said I'm fine."

"Yeah, yeah, you're fine." He scoffs at her and Mikasa tries to disregard Eren's annoyance. "At least sit there while I gather these up for the night."

A cool gush of wind whirls around them. Eren clutches his sweater tighter to keep himself warm, whereas Mikasa nuzzles to the inside of her warm scarf. She lets her eyelids fall for a few moments and she is taken aback by light loved and sun kissed days.

It flashes through her like the brightest memory that ever crosses her mind. It is golden and sweet. She looks down at him and intently studies his features; the wrinkle in his nose, the faintest pink in his cheeks, the dirt that tangles in his hair, the tear stains in his eyes, she knows it all too well. Then she softly shakes him, and he darts his eyes at her black pools and the wind tackles her hair once more.

She watches him. She smiles. "This feels like before."

He looks up from what he is doing. "What?"

"This," she sighs and tries to stand up.

"Mikasa—"

She holds up a hand, indicating that she is fine. "This feels like something that happened before."

He slowly nods his head in agreement. "Yeah," he gathers the last pile of firewood, and Mikasa offers to carry at least the half of it. Reluctantly, Eren gives her a few.

"We used to do this a lot back then." She says as they start heading back to the cabin.

"Never really liked it, though." he murmured under his breath.

"It always came handy when dealing with those kids who teased Armin."

He chuckles softly at what she says. It was true. This feels like back then; not just the firewood, but everything with her.

"Mikasa."

"Yes, Eren?"

"What I said back then, at the fields," he hesitates for a moment and looks at her through the corners of his eyes. He swears that a light flush builds up at her cheeks as he brings this up. "I mean it."

She does not say anything.

Eren eyes Mikasa; he knows that she looks at the ground whenever things get to these. She remains silent, and he is quite satisfied with that. _I know,_ is what she means to say, and Eren knows that. He sees her clutch the uneven surfaces of the wood and lets her bangs cover her face; _I know_ is what she doesn't say.

Mikasa clings and earns and longs and reaches out to Eren. She thinks at first that he is really far beyond her reach; he is Eren after all. He is of promises and undeterminable watercolor dreams and tainted wishes. But Eren promises her of fate that will never be unbounded by anything, and she, like any other fool, believes him.

"Are you cold?" he asks her. He sees how she slightly shivers as the soft air runs past through her clothes and skin.

"I'm fine. We're almost near the cabin anyway."

He stops walking and puts down the firewood he is holding. Mikasa turns around to look over Eren; he closes the distance between the two of them and she suddenly feels warmth all over her. She suddenly feels a soft shuffle in her neck, and she feels as if she is being stripped away from her own skin. Eren takes the scarf from Mikasa's neck and she attempts of retrieving it back, causing some of the firewood to fall from her arms, but he quickly holds it away from her reach.

"Ah, Eren, give it—"

"This will keep you warm," he cuts her, as he gently wraps the scarf around her neck. It was less haphazardly done than the first time he offers his scarf to her; it was more caring and cautious, something Mikasa rarely sees from Eren.

When he tugs it for the last time and secures it safely, she lets her cold stricken fingers slide through the fabric of the scarf. It feels warm, and the touch of Eren silently whispers through it.

"Thank you," she mumbles under her breath.

He leans down and picks up the pieces of wood he left on the ground. "As many times as it takes, remember?"

They walk silently back to the cabin afterwards.

Mikasa still clings and earns and longs and reaches out to Eren, but she thinks that someday, she will pass through the walls he created and lift off the weights that he insists on carrying; all along, all he ever need to do is reach back out to her.


	3. Sun-sweet Fruits and Summer Kisses

Title: Sun-sweet Fruits and Summer Kisses

A/N: The title's too mushy, I might just puke. So, I'm currently in tropical area and summer's almost here. Too early, eh? And because of that, we've got a lot of fruits, then bam! Inspiration.

* * *

Fruits and wild summer berries were quite scarce. They were sold at the market at quite high prices, and if ever the stocks were more than the usual number of supplies, (and also happened to be cheaper) there would be nothing left for you if you arrived late at the market place. Even if they weren't the sweetest or the juiciest or the plumpest fruits, since the finest were always sold inside Sina, they were very much in demand.

Luckily for Mikasa, who lived near the woods and somewhere at the base of the mountain, she managed to get a fair share on fruits. Her father would bring a basket full of melons and passion fruits, all round and plump and rich in color. She would wash it along with her mother; when her mother's not looking, she will pop a few grapes in her mouth and let its juice run wild in her mouth.

But now, she couldn't find the privilege to sweet and abundant fruits. She knew that she couldn't make an ever so big request to Carla, considering the fact that fruits at the market place were highly priced and she had caused Eren's family too much trouble.

* * *

He let his feet play with the cool waters of the river. Eren kicked and splashed and it made his legs and a part of his clothes wet. The skies were scorching pastels, and somehow, the heat failed to bother him. Eren eyed Mikasa who was sitting beside him; she drew her legs up to her chest as her small fingers tugged at the grass.

"Hey, Mikasa." He smiled at her with knowing stares.

She looked at him. "Yeah?"

Eren scooted down at the river and threw a handful of river-water at Mikasa's face. Mikasa was quickly taken aback by what Eren did; she coughed and ran her small hand through her face, clearing away the beads of water. Eren was bright and at the peak, he laughed like the sun, the mirth and smiles and soul were so evident in him, like the enigma of life Mikasa thought of him.

"Why did you do that?" she asked as she pulled her soaked hair away from her face.

"Nothing. You look like you're about to burn any minute now."

"I'm not." She said.

"Yes, you are."

"I'm not."

"I said, yes you are! And that's final." He shouted at her. Mikasa just stared at him for a moment and sighed out loud. _Fine, you said it so._

She stared at the river, how it was placid and how it let Eren played with its quiet ebbs and flows.

"Armin said that there's this huge river. No, he said it's bigger than a river, and wider—"

"The sea?"

"How'd you know that?" Eren looked at her questioningly.

"Armin told me so. He lent me his book."

"He," he gulped, and timidly added "lent you his book?"

Mikasa nodded, straightening up her dress.

"Oh." Eren looked down from Mikasa to the river. "Just don't let Mom see the book."

"I kept it hidden under your bed."

"How come I didn't see it?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Your room's always messy. Your mom made me clean it the other day."

Eren's face flushed red at what Mikasa said. He wanted to drop the conversation already. So what if Armin lent Mikasa his book? It's not that she liked him more…

"Want to go on an adventure?" he asked as he stood up from where he was seated.

"Adventure?"

"Yeah. I got a surprise for you." He held out his hand to Mikasa. For the slightest second, a soft tinge of red crept right up to her face when she held unto Eren's hand and as he pulled her up to her feet.

His eyes were of unexplainable wanderlust and stardust. Mikasa knew that teal glimmer that would escape from his eyes. It made her smile; it made her light, like the summer winds that played along with her hair. It made every bit of Mikasa overwhelmed by the presence of summer in Eren. Little did she know that as they would grow up, time and hate would rob him of his boyish charms and naught; it would be so rare to witness it.

They ran and ran under the summer sun. He held her hand, and she never let go. It reminded her of a promise that needed not to be spoken of. Past through the trees, by the river, down to the meadow; it was a place familiar to Mikasa. This is where Eren loved to steal short naps in the afternoon, where the blue flowers danced gaily to the whispers of the winds, where the leaves skittered and fell to the earth, where she saw him dreamed.

They stopped beneath the shade of the tree. He let go of her hand as he wiped the sweat on his forehead with the back of his arm. For a moment, Mikasa's soul stopped fluttering as Eren let go.

"Wait here." He said, as he eagerly ran.

"Eren—"

"Just wait there!" he was immediately a good few meters away. He waved at her and flashed her a reassuring smile.

Mikasa tried to look at what Eren was doing. She tiptoed and squinted her eyes, but Eren's back was facing her. He bent down on the bushes as if picking up something. He ran back to her under the tree, all flushed and red by the heat and excitement.

"Here." He said as he presented to her a handful of dewberries.

"Berries? This is your surprise?" she asked as she looked at his dirt and juice-stained palms then to his face.

"What? You don't like berries?"

"No! I love berries. It's just that—"

"Well, what are you waiting for? Here!" he pushed it to her eagerly. She studied the fruits that were before her then she took a piece then popped it right to her mouth.

"Is it delicious?" Eren asked.

She nodded her head as she greedily chewed on it.

"I didn't know there were berries here." She said as she placed another berry in her mouth.

"Me too." Eren took a berry from his palms and ate it. "I just discovered it the other day."

"How did you know I love these?"

"I just thought so. You know what, whenever we get to have fruits, my mom even puts cream in it and serves it as dessert."

They ate and ate until there was just one berry on Eren's palm. Mikasa hesitated, but Eren made her open her mouth and popped it inside. She blushed a little at his actions and tried to hide it.

They sat down beneath the tree. The wind was still soft and tender. Eren yawned and placed his hand on his mouth. "Today's a secret, ok? Don't tell anyone, not even Armin."

She nodded, and she could feel a small weight was placed on her shoulder. Eren was already asleep, his head on Mikasa's shoulders.

Back then, Mikasa thought that the best summers were the ones back at home, where her mother dressed her up in pretty sun dresses and flowery hats, and they went on picnics. But then she thought that maybe lazy summers and dewberry picking with Eren were so much better.

* * *

A/N: There goes another plot-less fluff.


	4. Little Things

A/N: So, **_overcast fireside _**has mentioned in one of the reviews that it would be interesting to read something from Eren's POV, so here you go. :D This is basically a word-vomit. I did this in like fifteen minutes and without any editing.

* * *

She is like the softest glimmer of light on the night everything fell at its feet and bones. Call it faith or hope, or whatever word you could find to associate with her pure enigma. She is well-defined by the dullest beams of the moon and nostalgia of yesterday. She may not be the brightest (for it is already given and a relative fact that Christa is the brightest) but her glow is never to be missed; it is crestfallen and embraced with all the kindred and love she could ever bear to carry along with the scars that are sketched on her skin.

Eren thinks she is fragile; she is the finest yet the thinnest glass that when broken, it would be hard, impossible even to pick up all the pieces. And Eren wonders how the hell did he manage to pick her up and get her feet back firm on the ground. Really, for him, it is just a deed he considered as a must. Little did he know it will lead to a change that shall not be forgotten.

She has dreams too, broken and shattered and at the same time all too beautiful. It is, after all, a cruel and beautiful world. What Eren doesn't know is that Mikasa is willing to live a breath in a cruel place with him rather in a thousand lifetimes in a world where beauty is an understatement yet Eren does not exist.

She is unpredictable and you do not know what to expect from her. But then again, if you're Eren, and Armin for that matter, you would not fail to know how she tends to react to certain situations, especially those concerning Eren. She risks and the sincerity in her eyes are ever so evident; in this, Eren softens and lets his walls fall apart. He doesn't know what took him so long to understand that.

After quite some time and a lot of contemplative thinking, Eren comes to acknowledge that Mikasa is home. You don't have to be literal; you just have to feel it. It may not be the structure, the traditional one, but the lost vestiges of the home he once had are in her. And it kills him so.

She is like the red in his blood and pulse and veins, and the red in her neck. Once upon a red-tainted and perverted night that perpetually scarred her, Mikasa is given life, sealed with the warmth of Eren's scarf. At the time, Eren failed to see how it is a matter of reciprocity. He is quite the fool, for his a young boy whose mind is filled with follies and is robbed of it. He lets go, and seeks comfort and strength and warmth in her.

To him, Mikasa is life; nothing more is needed to be said than what is already said.


	5. Goddam Gold Ring

Ratings: T (minor swear words)

Disclaimer: Attack on Titan / Shingeki no Kyojin and The Catcher in the Rye do not belong to me. They belong to Hajime Isayama and J.D. Salinger.

A/N: This is my first AU fic for Eremika. I will be dividing this thing into two or three or four, whatever

* * *

"I don't know anymore, Armin." Eren sighs. It is a rainy November-night. For some reason, Eren thinks that the weather is getting on his hair. He feels as if he is in the midst of confusion sand misunderstandings, somewhere in between of frustrations and misinterpretations along with the gloominess that lingers in the breaths of the rain. He shifts his umbrella to his other hand; _what's the point, _he thinks. _The umbrella's all useless as well. _"It's like I don't understand her or this or us, or everything in between anymore. She simply is being blunt at times. I just—" he breathes in deeply and stops walking.

Armin notices how Eren suddenly stops his blabbering. "Hey," he looks back at him. He tries to put a faint smile in attempt to console and cheer Eren up. "come on. You'll get sick. She's waiting inside."

"I just don't get this whole thing anymore."

He looks at the ground. How are they going to resolve this? Everything is edgy and at the brink. Eren thinks that the only reason why he and Mikasa spend time together is because it is mandatory, compulsory, a must. He wants to be with her, to hold her hand, to feel her breath hitch as he hugs her, but then right now, he is not sure at all.

The coffee shop has this vibrant ambiance, like life itself. Something that Eren is all too familiar with. It shelters warmth despite the cold rain. It is just across the street, from where he and Armin are standing. He thinks that he has never been as unwilling to enter the café. Both Eren and Armin are silent, only the distinct and muffled noises from the street and the monotonous patter of the rain against the pavement can be heard.

Eren stands before the door of the coffee shop, hesitant and reluctant, one hand holding the damp umbrella, the other against the handle of the door. He feels a soft hand on his shoulder.

"Hey." Armin smiles at him. "Stop worrying. You know how she is. It's going to be fine."

Eren shrugs. "I hope so."

"You know you love her."

Of course. But a part of Eren is not sure at all. He delves in between the assured and doubts. It is like casting a hope-filled net on unsure waters. "I don't know." His mouth twitches at this, and he is engulfed by guilt.

Armin rolls his eyes. "Yeah right," he smirks. "I wonder who was so head-over-heels in love with her since third grade."

Eren feels his face turn red at what Armin says. God, how does his face even manage to do that even at situations like this? How does Armin manage to blurt out shit like that? "Quit it, Armin."

"Oh, yeah right. We're in the middle of a life-and-death situation." He slightly taps his shoulder. "Just call me whenever you need me. I'll be just around the corner."

"Yeah, whatever." Eren chuckles slightly as he nods and Armin starts walking away from the café. Eren runs his fingers through his unkempt hair and exhales deeply. He opens the door and a small chime that indicates someone has entered rings.

He eyes the whole place. There are only a few people around, making it easier for Eren to spot Mikasa. She is seated in the corner of the place, on a table where it is poorly lit; she tries to concentrate on the book she is reading, _The Catcher in the Rye._ Eren sees how her fingers constantly fiddle with the leaves of the book then at the loose hem of the red scarf. _That goddam red scarf._

"You shouldn't be reading here. The lighting's not good." He puts his hands inside his pockets as he approaches her.

She looks up from her book then to him. "Eren." Her lips pull a straight line as she clears her throat since it is hoarse. She pulls her scarf up to her nose.

"Are you reading that part again?" he asks as he sits himself across her and places the umbrella near the foot of the table.

Mikasa nods; she marks the page and sets the book beside. She places her hands, tucked and entwined with the other, on the table before her. Eren looks at her pale hands then at the worn copy of the book. "Could you read that part out loud?"

She looks at him dumbly; Mikasa is quite confused. Eren simply stares at her, wondering if she will read it out loud to him. He doubts it. He's betting a dollar for a nickel she won't. She probably thinks he is being stupid, making her meet him up on a rainy night just to read to him The Catcher in the Rye.

But to his surprise, Mikasa picks up the book and flips it to where she left the bookmark, on page two-hundred eleven, and starts reading.

"_..she walked once all the way around it. Then she sat down on this big, brown, beat-up looking old horse. Then the carrousel started, and I watched her go around and around. There were only about five or six other kids on the ride, and the song the carrousel was playing was 'Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.' It was playing it very jazzy and funny. All the kids kept trying to grab for the gold ring, and so was old Phoebe, and I was sort afraid she'd fall off the goddam horse but I didn't say anything or do anything."_

She pauses and draws her coffee to her lips and takes a sip of it. She looks over at Eren to see if he would like to continue; he is simply staring at nowhere, and so Mikasa decides to continue reading.

"_The thing with kids is, if they want to grab for the gold ring, you have to let them do it, and not say anything. If they fall off, they fall off, but it's bad if you say anything to them."_

Mikasa closes the book. Eren is still staring, staring into something beyond. Back then, he used to stare at how Mikasa tucks the stray strands of her hair behind her ear, at how Mikasa unconsciously licks her chapped rose-tinted lips, at how she always wears the red scarf he gave her, at how she slowly dozes off to sleep while reading to him The Catcher in the Rye at one in the morning. Now, he couldn't find himself to just take a glance at her.

"That's your favorite part." Her voice is coarse from reading; she takes another sip of her coffee. "I always stop there."

Eren doesn't say anything; he just grunts and nods his head. He slightly slouches and lets his eyelids fall for a few moments.

They were both silent for a few moments; just the small chatters from the people around the coffee shop and the distinct clinks of the teaspoon against the cup can be heard. Mikasa has always known Eren as the incisive one, and it has always been her and Armin who are able to go through his demeanors. But sometimes, when all she ever wants is to be with him, she thinks he's being too elusive. And these are one of the moments in which Mikasa sees Eren at his most elusive.

She knows something's up; really, even if she weren't as smart as Armin, she has sensed it. These past few days, Eren is quite off. She thinks she can handle this; that she can make it pass through his walls, but it seems that Eren himself does not even bother to let her in. But she does not give up, because what then? They become even lost than they already are; her as intrusive and gentle as ever, and him as blunt and stubborn.

"Eren," Mikasa tests his name on her tongue. "What is—"

"Hey, wanna play a game?" he sits himself up and shrugs his shoulders. He attempts to put up a faint smile, and Mikasa tilts her head back in wonder.

"A game? You're being weird tonight, huh."

He smirks and rolls his eyes. Mikasa chuckles at this; it has been a while since they did something like this. Perhaps he is attempting to save whatever's left?

"So, do you wanna play a game or what?"

She smiles at him, not the flashy one or the big grin, just the smile Eren is ever so used to see at her, the hidden and something-beyond smile of Mikasa. "Yes. So, how do you play it?"

"Er, it's not really a game, I guess." He looks around him and sheepishly rubs the nape of his neck. "I'll just ask you a few things. You don't need to answer it if you don't want to."

Mikasa raises an eyebrow at him. "An asking game? Why, is there anything to ask more?"

_No,_ Eren thinks. _There's nothing to ask, nothing to know. I just miss you but everything's all wrong these days._ "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Mikasa shakes her head lightly, "I wanna play."

"Ok then. Let's start." He shifts his weight in his seat and thinks of the stupidest question he could ask. "What's your favorite color?"

Mikasa's lips twitches at this question. "Eren, you know that already."

"What?" he raises his voice and gives her a blunt look. "It's just a color. Say it already."

"Green." She hesitantly whispers the word.

"Green?" He shifts his head to look Mikasa in the eye then at her scarf. "I always thought it was red."

"It's green."

He dumbly studies her as his green-glazed eyes inspect her from head to toe. "You're making me sound so stupid, Mikasa." He chuckles lightly, and for some reason, a light tinge of red creeps up at the pale of Mikasa's cheeks.

Somehow, Eren feels as if something is not right. The first question is supposed to be a preparation for. . . bigger question yet to come. It is a dumb question, and he has expected himself to know Mikasa's answers to the first question. It makes him nervous to ask her more questions. It leads Eren's mind into the idea that this night might not turn out well.

"Ok, next question." He studies her quickly but intently; then his eyes shift to her fingers then to the worn copy of her book and then to the half-filled cup of coffee. He doesn't actually know how Mikasa particularly likes her coffee. "How do you like your coffee?"

She looks at her mug. "With a teaspoon of sugar and cream in it, I guess."

A good hour and so passes with Eren continuously asking Mikasa mundane questions, and she supplies it with the simple facts. On weird moments, Eren finds himself a complete and total asshole for not being able to know these little things about Mikasa, considering the fact they have spent a good matter of time (years, for that matter) with each other. All he wants to do by time Mikasa's out of sight is bang his head hard against a wall.

He leans back on his chair and stretches his arms. Mikasa's cup is already empty, leaving the coffee stains on the mouth of the mug. Eren studies her; she is still Mikasa, the girl whom he had a crush on ever since he was nine, the girl who never fails to keep her composure on times like these, the girl who has sworn the world and her all to him. She is his rock, and it still amazes him how she manages to completely balance him out.

The night is already late; some of the customers have left and the crew starts to mop the floorboard and cleans the dishes. It's a good thing that the café is opened twenty-four-seven; that is enough for Eren to hopefully resolve things. He is going for the last question, and then shall he start to seriously do the talking. He eyes looks at the corner of Mikasa's side of the table, then he suddenly knows the last thing he's going to ask her.

"What's your gold ring?"

"Huh? My gold ring? What do you mean?" she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she leans towards Eren.

"You know, the gold ring, from Catcher in the Rye? The one from the carrousel and how his sister, Phoebe attempts on reaching that gold ring."

Mikasa scoffs yet her lips curl up to a slight smile. "That sounds like a phony question."

"That sounds like a goddam Holden Caulfield. Just answer it already. What's your gold ring?"

She chuckles at his remarks. She fixes her arms before her and takes a deep breath. "You are, Eren."

"What?" he blinks his eyes at what Mikasa says.

"You're my gold ring, Eren. Uh, this sounds so stupid. Can we move to the next question?" her face heats up as she awkwardly shuffles in her seat, pulling the scarf up to her nose in attempt to hide her blush.

As for Eren, he does not know how to respond or to even say anything to Mikasa. What he just heard is something he is not expecting; he thinks Mikasa is unfathomable, beyond his reach even, but what he learns tonight is that everything might have been the other way around.

He feels his breathing hitch as seconds tick by; Mikasa's stares throw him questions that Eren knows all too well. He sighs deeply and runs his hands ruefully through his hair.

"Hey, you okay?" Mikasa asks, her eyes filled with concern.

"Uh, yeah. I think so."

She lets out a deep sigh and leans against the cushion of her seat. "Now what?"

"I don't know."

"Are you sure you're okay, Eren?"

Then out of the crisp and lingering silence of the room, he banged his fists hard against the wooden table. Mikasa is taken aback with his actions, causing her to flinch a little. "Explain everything to me, Mikasa!"

"Eren!" she exclaims, as she tries to stand up from her seat.

"No, just sit there." He looks around and sees the baristas and waiters from the counter eyeing the both of them. He massages his temples as he tries to regain his composure. "I'm sorry, it's just that I don't understand." Eren mumbles.

"Eren? What is it that you don't understand?"

"This!" he gestures the space between the two of them as he seethes the word. "And what you have just said about that goddam gold ring."

"I mean it." She bites on her lower lip; her eyes fail to meet his. Mikasa knows how Eren is when he is confused or frustrated, and it is not to her pleasing when she fails to comfort him, or on some accounts, when she is the source of his annoyance. "Phoebe keeps on reaching for the gold ring. All the other kids riding the carrousel keep on reaching for the gold ring. I keep on reaching for you, Eren."

He shakes his head in failure of understanding. "What do you mean? You keep on reaching for me? Fuck, Mikasa. I'm here. I'm always here! You don't have to reach out for me, or whatever your shit means. You're still being vague, just get to the poi—"

"How about an icebreaker, huh, Eren?" she attempts to muster up all her courage despite Eren's rage.

He takes in a deep breath and exhales. "Why don't we just drop this? Let's just forge—"

"No, Eren." She insists, her voice firm. "You do want to play a game, right?"

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks at her, and for whatever reason, no matter how vague it seems, as vague as the two of them are at the moment, it comforts him. "Okay."

"What about you, Eren, what's your gold ring?"


	6. Goddam Gold Ring (part 2)

A/N: This is divided into three parts. That's final.

Disclaimer: Disclaimed; Isayama's and J.D. Salinger's (for some quoted parts)

* * *

"What about you, Eren, what's your gold ring?"

She is ebony hair and gray pools and pale lips and moon-kissed. _She is Mikasa._ And Eren thinks that she is his "gold ring." But then again, something holds him back, like grudges and follies and expectations. After all, when he first saw her, and sometimes at rather odd accounts, he thinks that Mikasa is too good for him. Eren thinks that she is beyond of his reach and all he ever does is try to yank her as the carrousel keeps on going around and around.

"I don't know." Is what he gives her rather than a _You_.

She keeps her face blank, not giving out a hint of any of her expression. Then she acknowledges his answer by nodding her head.

"I'm sorry." He whispers.

She shakes her head and smiles. "Don't be."

"No, Mikasa. It's all wrong. I cannot keep on doing this to you."

"Do what? Eren, please." She practically begs with her eyes. "I understand, Eren."

"It's unfair, Mikasa. I'm being unfair. I'm your gold ring, while I don't even know what's mine, and we're like having a book club meeting or—or a, uh, a fucking book review of The Catcher in the Rye!"

"Eren, don't you understand? You're the gold ring here because sometimes I think, I cannot reach you. It's like you're building up your walls and—"

"Cannot reach me? Mikasa, do you even hear yourself?" He shoots her an angry look; Mikasa scrunches at this. He clenches his fists as he tries to calm himself down. "It isn't supposed to be like this."

"If it is not like this, then how?" her shoulders shudder at what Eren would say.

He looks at her, hoping for something.

Something that might not possibly even be there. "I have no idea."

She nods. To be honest, Mikasa knows why Eren asked her to meet him up tonight. It kills her to just even think of it; what more if it would be put into reality?

"Mikasa, I'm sorry."

"It's alright."

"No, you don't get it. I'm apologizing for—"

"Eren," she pulls up a hand to silence him. "I told you, I understand. I know you're having a hard time putting it into words."

Then, she crumbles. She breaks, and what is worse is that she breaks in front of him. She tries to stop it but she could feel the hot tears forming at the corners of her eyes, and it is impossible to prevent it from falling down through her cheeks.

"Mikasa—"

"No, it's okay." She wipes her eyes with the back of her forearm like a child. God, she is a weeping child. She tries to smile for him despite the pain that slowly inflicts through and within her. "Maybe it's not really right. I—I, uh, oh God. I guess, it isn't—"

The only audible things are her sniffles and her gasps for breath.

"I, uh, it's getting late." She clears her throat. "I better get back home."

Eren reaches out for her but she stops him. "It's okay. I got this." She almost stumbles as she stands up to her feet.

"A—are you sure? Do you want me to walk you home?" he stands up from the opposite side of the table.

_Walk me home? Ha! That's priceless._ "No need." She grabs her bag and places it on her shoulder as she makes her way across the coffee shop. "See you later, Eren."

The door closes behind her; the last thing Eren saw of her is her scarf. He does not follow her and he swears that everything is so wrong.

* * *

"Eren? What's up?"

"Hey, Armin. Uh, sorry for bothering you. It's just that—"

It is raining harder than it was earlier; Eren thinks the rain is really getting on his hair, probably making fun of him. He just needs to shut the world off, shut every little trace of it, and let him disappear from its grounds. And at the moment, Eren thinks that Armin is the one who can understand his state of being misunderstood.

And as Eren expected, Armin simply knows how things go. "It's okay, you moron. You still at the café?"

"I don't know, Armin, but it feels all too wrong." Eren disregards Armin's question, his voice all shaken up. He tries to calm down as his hand nervously clutches the phone to his ear. "I just thought that by the time this is over, I would feel, ugh, I don't know."

"Feel what, Eren?"

"I said I don't know, okay?" he grunts and Armin quickly thinks of a response.

"What happened?"

"About?"

Armin rolls his eyes. It's a good thing he's on the phone, and it's rather another good thing that his best friend is quite stupid sometimes. "What happened to Mikasa?"

Eren does not say anything. Armin just hears Eren's heavy breathing from the other line. For a moment, it scares Armin. "Hey, Eren. Get your shit together. What happened?"

"I shouldn't have done this, Armin." He says as he attempts to make his voice sound steady. "I shouldn't have ended it."

"You broke up with her."

"Yeah."

Armin sighs. _God, really, Eren?_ "Eren—"

"I know, Armin, I know. I'm so fucked up. I—I don't even know why I did that."

"So what are you going to do?"

Eren smirked and it just annoyed Armin. "Nothing. She's probably murdered me in her mind anyway."

"You could really be a peabrain sometimes, huh?"

"What the fuck?" he gives off a weak laugh. "What do you mean by that, huh?"

"Listen, I may not know what happened to you tonight, or how your conversation went, but she's Mikasa."

"And your point?"

"Quit messing around. My point is that she's Mikasa. As simple as that; nothing more, nothing less. What else do you need to know?"

Eren scoffs at what Armin says. "I don't even know what her favorite color is."

"And so? Does that change the fact that she's Mikasa?"

He does not say anything. Really, arguing with Armin will get you nowhere.

"What do I do now?"

"I don't know. Go to her, I guess? Then get back to her pants the Yaeger way." Armin laughs at the other line.

Eren pushes himself to laugh at Armin's joke. "Fuck you, Armin. You won't get away with that."

"Oh yeah? Well, Mikasa's getting away. What're you going to do about it?"

"What did you say, Armin Arlert?"

"You heard me. I said that Eren Yaeger's a lovesick school boy who got busted by the girl of his dreams!"

"Haha, Armin. You'll do for a clown."

"No, seriously Eren," Armin clears his throat, dropping the humor. "just do what you think you need to do."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Where are you? Want me to come over there?"

"Nah, no need."

"Ok, suit yourself."

"Hey Armin?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." He mumbles, his breath clouds his face.

"No problem." He hangs up, and Eren still does not know what he needs to do.

* * *

A/N: ur typing down that review for me... pretty please? ok, how about prompts instead? im pretty much that pathetic.


	7. Different Turns

Prompt: Eren thinking what if her parents were never killed and they met at "that time?"

A/N: For _**stardere**_, because she wanted to see my take on Eren thinking of "what-ifs." Did I justify the angst theme with this fic? (Psst, the answer is a big fat-ass no.) Heck, I don't think I even did the prompt some justice. I'm sorry. *cries in the corner*

* * *

There had been certain events as to which Eren had shoved off his surges of hate, anger, vengeance and whatnot. Notoriously known for said traits, it was still possible for his demons to be tamed under considerable dispositions; and that being one of the nights wherein he saw Mikasa fast asleep on the couch at the cabin where the Levi's squad is currently staying.

And at that certain moment, Eren found himself quite compelled to not think of Mikasa and what makes her Mikasa; it was quite inevitable, to be frank. Her eyelashes were long and entangled against each other like tumbleweeds after the rain, draped and damp from tears. Her knees were slightly curled up as her arms were warmly tucked beneath her head. Eren wanted to touch her, perhaps have his fingers run through her hair that was of chamomile scent and feel her soft breath tickle his skin.

Mikasa looked serene, probably had escaped into a more beautiful place through thoughts and dreams that were in vain. And with that thought crossing his mind, Eren couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt crept through his bones.

Out of the blue, he pondered: what would it be like when there was no Mikasa?

Confound that thought! He could live without MIkasa! As if she was a must, or a necessity, or. . . well, isn't she?

It sliced through his insides to just even think of it; what more if it be put to actions? Sure, Mikasa could be annoying and persistent as hell, but at that moment (not an ideal one, though) he decided that he could never be able to live from something that he had grown so fond of.

Eren knelt down just before the couch and looked at Mikasa. He was a good few inches away from her; he intently gazed at how the faint moonlight cradled her face in the dark of the ghosts. She shifted from her position, and Eren moved away a little.

He gently put a warm hand upon her shoulder and quietly shook her, "Mikasa."

She grunted and said something through deep murmurs.

"Hey, Mikasa. Come on; let's get you to your quarters."

She took a deep breath and slowly blinked her eyes. Within a few moments, she had managed to identify Eren's face in the dark. "Eren," she said through yawns as she lazily straightened up.

"Hey," he stood up from his post. "It's already late. Get back to your room."

"Why are you still awake?" she rubbed her eyes and tiredly tamed her hair. "Did you have a nightmare?"

He rolled his eyes at her remarks. "As if I were the one who used to wake up in the middle of the night because of nightmares."

Mikasa suddenly felt heat gathered up to her face; she quickly nuzzled half of her face in the red scarf that was idly hanging loose from her neck.

Eren watched her; and while doing so, he caught himself rather off guard. _God, it was just Mikasa. _She looked pretty all of a sudden. Where on earth did the idea of her being pretty pop from? It's not that she was not pretty, in fact, back then when Mikasa just moved into their household, Eren would intently had his gaze fixed upon her as she worked in the kitchen with his mother. _Maybe she's the only girl who's a little bit prettier than mom._ And his mom would catch him staring at Mikasa; he would simply turn his head away as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tried to calm the red in his cheeks.

"Is there something wrong?" Mikasa asked, as she looked up to him with all the cares and worries through her opal eyes.

"Quit it, Mikasa. Nothing's wrong." He cleared his throat as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

"Are you sure?"

"I said I'm fine Mikasa." Eren said, with a voice barely used at two in the morning. "Anyway," he sat down beside her, making sure that there was not a part of him touching her, because it rather shook him off for whatever reason. "why are you here?"

"Miss Hanji, along with Moblit and her squad went out on experimentation. I'm assigned on patrol tonight."

"Late at night?"

She gathered up her hair to the side. Eren noticed how much her hair had gotten longer. Either way, he decided that he doesn't care at all. It's just hair. "Yeah. She said that it would be easier to move at night. She thought it would be safer, she said. Eyes are shuttered close during the night, you know?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he just stupidly nodded. "Any idea on what they are experimenting on?"

She shook her head and yawned, the traces of sleep still evident in her droopy eyes. "How about you, why are you up? Nightmares?" She slightly nudged him in the shoulders, making Eren's bones dissolve into pools.

"Really, Mikasa? Would you like me to remind you of how you used to crawl up to my bed while crying in the middle of the night?"

"Ok, ok. You got me." She chuckled softly, putting up her hands in the air as a sign of defeat in their childish game.

"No, you started it." He said as he pulled up his legs and faced her, grinning stupidly as ever. "I honestly don't know why you act so motherly around me, when all along I'm the one whom you ran to."

"Please Eren." She grunted and rolled her eyes. "That was a long time ago."

"Doesn't seem that long to me."

"What do you want, Eren?" She asked as she faced him, putting up the deadpan face in front of him.

"That face won't do. I'm not Jean, you know." He said teasingly, and it managed to make Mikasa turn scarlet. He smiled at seeing her blush, and he suddenly realized what he did there and he wanted to bang his head hard against the wall. "Sorry," he murmured.

She gripped her scarf and readjusted it. "It's okay."

The night was at its deepest; nothing seemed to be moving except for the two of them. And sometimes, Eren wished that it could always be like this; the world is theirs and theirs alone at that very moment. It was a worldly and temporary escapism for the both of them, but escape had never really been one of his options at all. It could pull them back to the gruesome and demented reality within the slightest flicker of the eye or snap of the fingers, the reality that had forever inflicted its nails and teeth through their skins.

"Hey," Mikasa tilted her head downwards to face Eren. "You okay? You suddenly shifted there."

He looked at Mikasa, and it slapped him. He was looking at someone who had invested her life and all her breaths to him. "I just, uh, thought of something."

"Hm?"

He shook his head. "It's nothing, really."

"Come on, you could always tell me. Something's bothering you. What is it?"

He sighed loudly and leaned his head backward, near the window, making its faint light glow upon the crest of Eren's head. "Remember that one time when we used to sneak out in the middle of the night?"

Mikasa's eyes shifted to weird stares as her eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Yeah, I remember that. How could I forget it?"

"And remember how you got your sleeves torn by one of the branches back at the hills?" He asked with the glitter in his eyes that she was all too familiar with.

"You kept tugging on me!" She chuckled at remembering this. "It was quite hard to keep that scratch from your mother."

Eren managed to pull off a light laugh as they recalled what they did back then. God, since when was the last time he shove away all his cares and just laugh at what he and Mikasa used to do? Probably years. . .

Then as he would later claim it, his hand moved at its own. It grabbed the strands of the soft fabric that was wrapped around Mikasa. Mikasa looked down from his hands then up to Eren. "Why do you still cling to this, huh?"

She let her fingers run through the soft and tattered scarf, until it brushed against Eren's own hand. He felt something electric at the contact, and it made him gulp. "I don't know." She shrugged. "I mean, it means a lot to me."

He nodded and let go of the scarf. She sighed deeply and leant back at the couch. "I know I've said this before." Her fingers innocently fiddled with the strands of the wool. "but thank you. And you might get annoyed by me saying it all over again, but I owe you my li—"

"If you're doing all of this because you think you've got a debt or someth—"

"It's not that I feel indebted to you!" she said as she tried to hide her face with a part of her hair. "I know that I am, and don't you tell me, Eren, that I am not. But it is something beyond paying you back."

He crossed his arms. "Then what is it?"

"You'll know." She offered her a small smile; not the flashy proud smile. The smile that defined Mikasa. It was rather rare and exclusive, and Eren was one of the few who got to see it in her. He felt his face go warm at her smile, and so he quickly shifted his sight at something else.

"Anyway, you don't need to worry anymore." He cleared his throat.

"Worry about what?"

"Nothing." He laughed. "I told you, nothing."

"Oh, Eren, stop that." She scoffed at his stupid statements. Nothing to worry about? Ha! There's a laugh. It was mere wishful thinking. She had long ago given up on that; it was a demented notion, something considerably impossible. And to think of such would only get one into wrenches and broken dreams.

"Nah, I mean it, Mikasa. You don't need to worry. And Armin too."

She laughed and pulled her legs near her chest. "Ok then. You said it."

"I promised Armin we'll get out of these walls. And I promised you we'll always be together, right?"

She shot him a stare. Eren looked back at her with his green eyes, bearing all the hopes and promises he had set himself of reaching. She knew he was persistent and nothing could ever alter his mind. And then she broke in front of him. Hot tears prickled her eyes as she felt all the grudges and rocks and ghosts of her red-tainted memories were lifted up.

"Hey," he cupped her face as he thumbed away her tears. "why are you crying?"

She shook her head. "I'm not crying."

"Really, Mikasa?" he chuckled. She really was a cry-baby.

And they were just like that: her choking on her sobs as he constantly tried to wipe away all her tears. And nothing else mattered, because it was just the two of them. They owned the world, it was theirs and theirs alone, and no threats awaited them on the dawn. But it was only something they wished off.

Out of the blue, he pondered once again: what would it be like when there was no Mikasa?

"Mikasa," he tested her name upon his tongue as he reluctantly let go of her. "if we weren't here, would you still stay with me?"

She wiped the remaining tears with the back of her hand. "Of course, you dummy! I'll always be with you."

"I think it's my fault. I'm sorry."

"For what, Eren?"

"For dragging you here." He ran his fingers through his unkempt hair as he sighed.

"I joined at my own risk."

"But you only joined because I joined."

"I thought you said we'll always be together?" she shot him a stare.

He rolled his eyes. "Of course, but urgh. You're so stubborn."

"Stubborn? It's you who's stubborn! And what is this, all of the sudden? Why don't you just tell me?" He felt Mikasa's gaze turned to worrying.

"Nothing. I was just thinking what would happen if, you know, things took a different turn rather."

"A different turn? What do you mean?"

"I, uh, I don't know. I mean, have you ever wondered what it would be like if we haven't met at all, or if—if, um your—"

"If that night didn't happen?"

He gulped. He didn't like talking about that night, neither did she. It was an unspoken rule that they mutually agreed to; it didn't have to be said, their tinges and thoughts were enough. "Yes."

Mikasa chewed on her lower lip. She had not thought of it at all. If Eren hadn't saved her, she would probably resented living, but if _that night_ did not occur, she had not yet thought of what might happen. Things would have probably made a different turn. "I don't know."

"I'm sorry." He shifted uncomfortably in the couch. "I know we're not supposed to be talking about this."

"It's okay. I understand." She tucked her arms upon the windowsill and rested her head upon it. "Maybe you're just over-thinking."

"Maybe." He nodded in agreement.

"But to be honest, I think I like the way how things took its turn that night."

"Really?" his eyebrows scrunched at the middle of his forehead. "How come?"

Her shoulders shrugged as she looked out on the window. "We wouldn't be like this, you know."

"Like what?"

"Like how we are right now." She tilted her head to face Eren. "I don't know what's it called."

"Yeah, I think so too. I wouldn't change it for the world, you know."

She looked at him and instantly knew how he all meant his words. He was Eren, and Eren kept everything, and she need not to doubt a word he says.

"I'm just wondering," his eyes shifted from Mikasa to what was outside the window. "if things did take a different turn, would you still sneak out with me in the middle of the night?" He flashed her a big grin.

She giggled at the thought. "I don't know, but it would be my mom asking me where I got those scratches rather than yours."

Eren let hearty laughs escape from him; it would be rare for things like these to happen. He burrowed his face in the crown of her head. The night was all they have as of now; embracing all its stars and vestiges and promises was all that they could do. And so they did, they embraced it, as they embraced each other, as he sought comfort in her, and she with him.

But the night, just like their nested-dreams and bottled-hopes, slipped of their palms. The dawn would come, and it would rob them of their dreamscape, and they were deprived once again. But like Mikasa to her battered-up scarf, they both cling to every part of everything, even the ones that were just mere fragments of their mad minds.

Their fates did not assure them of safety or even a future; they could die the moment they embark on another expedition. _It did not assure them the promise of witnessing the sea._ But Eren would go at certain extents to alter it. He would let his inner demons go wild and dance with his soul, but he would go through hell and the highest of waters to keep his promise. He would, as the fate or whatever you call it would allow, even if it took rather different turns, be with Mikasa forever.

And that was all that matters.


	8. Goddam Gold Ring (part 3)

"_The thing with kids is, if they want to grab for the gold ring, you have to let them do it, and not say anything. If they fall off, they fall off, but it's bad if you say anything to them."_

Eren feels as if that he is a little kid who just fell off a beat-up horse from the carrousel. Not because he attempts to reach for the gold ring, but because he stops to reach for it. He is a complete and a goddam phony.

He shoots his phone back to his pocket. Thanks to Armin, he just realized how big an ass he is. The rain is still dripping, making everything much worse. There are no more people in the café, just the crew, him and Mikasa's book.

He takes the book and opens it to where the bookmark is and skims through the pages near the end of the book. Once in a while, when he happens to pass through some of the paragraphs he really loves, he would read it through soft whispers and inaudible mumbles. Reading the Catcher in the Rye without Mikasa feels so different, it is like a new story itself is being told or a new Holden Caulfield is introduced to the reader.

Then, like a lightning and out of the blue, Eren tries to think why on earth is he still at the café, going through the same book all over again when he is supposed to run after Mikasa who is probably soaked in the rain by now. _Does she have an umbrella with her?_ He quickly stands up from his seat and grabs his umbrella which he sets under the table. He tucks the book between his arms, exits the coffee house and rushes off to the rain.

* * *

Despite the fact that he does not know Mikasa's favorite color, Eren still somehow knows that Mikasa won't go home after such an encounter with him like that. And with that little fact given out, he bets that she's just somewhere near the area.

Occasionally, Eren shifts his umbrella to his other hand, and Mikasa's book to the other. He paces under the rainy night quickly, still engulfed both by nervousness and eagerness upon seeing Mikasa.

Then he sees her, partly soaked by the late night-rain, sitting in one of the benches under the shade of the bus stop. Once in a while, she clutches her scarf to keep her warm as lets her hair practically cover half of her face.

Eren slowly approaches her; Mikasa looks up from her lap to him. He is standing a good meter from her, as stupid as he may look under the rain. She quickly blinks the tears off and sniffs as she wipes her nose with the back of her hand. "Ahh, Eren—"

"Listen," he places the handle of his umbrella on his clavicle, tucking it so he could basically hold the book with both of his hands. "I know it's always you who reads The Catcher in the Rye out loud,"

"Eren what are you doing?" she stands up from the seat and stops just before the sidewalk where it is still covered by the shade. "Get in here, you might get wet."

"Drop it, Mikasa. I got an umbrella, and the lighting's much better here." He readjusts the umbrella and locks it between his jaw and shoulder; a lamppost stands just behind him, providing him good light. "I'm reading to you."

"You don't need to read it to me. I've read it a hundred times already anyway."

"It's a goddam Catcher in the Rye book review night. I'm reading to you." He clears his throat as he opens the book to where Mikasa left the bookmark, still on page two-hundred eleven.

"_When the ride was over she got off her horse and came over to me. 'You ride once, too, this time,' she said._

'_No, I'll just watch ya. I think I'll just watch.' I said. I gave her more of her dough. 'Here. Get some more tickets.'_

_She took the dough off me. 'I'm not mad at you anymore,' she said._

'_I know. Hurry up—the thing's gonna start again.' Then all of a sudden she gave me a kiss. then she held her hand out, and said, 'It's raining. It's starting to rain.'_

'_I know.'_

_Then what she did—it damn near killed me—she reached in my coat pocket and took out my red hunting hat and put it on my head."_

At this point, Eren feels something warm approaches him. He takes a glance up from the book then to Mikasa who is now standing under his umbrella as well. Eren leaves his index finger between pages two-hundred twelve and two-hundred thirteen as he holds the umbrella before the both of them. She yanks the scarf off of her neck then slowly, wraps it around Eren's, along with the threads of what's left of her.

"It's raining. It's starting to rain." She says.

Eren smirks and rolls his eyes. "It's been raining the whole day, for Christ's sake."

"Dummy," she chuckles. Mikasa securely tugs on the red scarf. "You just read that line. 'It's raining. It's starting to rain,' remember?"

For the slightest moment, Eren feels his breathing stops, the beating of his pulse quickens. It is like confessing to her all over again. He smells her peach-scent that lingers in the scarf. He feels her cold-stricken fingers brush against his skin and his worries drops all over. Mikasa gives him the faintest smile; just plain Mikasa, like the sheets yet untainted, and then Eren decides that it is simply enough to make him last through the day.

"How would this do as the red hunting cap?" she asks him as her laugh hitches nervously.

"Mikasa," he takes a deep breath. "about earlier—"

"You don't need to explain, Eren." She licks her lips and Eren crumbles at this, making him want to bang his head hard against the lamppost. "Reading that part is enough."

"I look like a complete idiot."

"You're such a phony, Eren."

"Yeah, I know." He chuckles nervously. He clutches the handle of the umbrella harder and purses his lips. "I tried to read The Catcher in the Rye earlier. It felt different."

"How?"

"Different… like a brand new story. I just want you to read it to me, or I'll read it to you instead, or maybe we could just read it together or I'm talking stupidly right now. God, I just—I don't know why I even did that. You know, even Armin thinks I'm such an asshole."

"Jean thinks you're an asshole too." She smirks.

"Jean, for crying out loud." Eren rolls his eyes at the mention of Jean's name. "Mikasa, you can kick me hard in the face or whatever. I'm sorry. I'm such an idiot."

She looks at him with those ever-knowing grey eyes of her. She plays at the hem of the scarf and tugs lightly at it.

Eren leans down to her and buries his face in the crown of her head. "Maybe it's just because I miss you so much. You're my gold ring, and I've been riding the goddam carrousel since God knows when." He whispers through her hair.

Eren hears the quiet sobs that escape from Mikasa; her shoulders shake, not because of fear or nervousness or of the cold, but because of the relief that overwhelms her at the moment.

"Hey, want an icebreaker?" she playfully tugs at his hair.

His mouth twitches for a moment, and then finally gives in. "Okay."

She cups his face with her cold hands, drawing it near to her face. She softly presses her lips against his. Eren lets his guard down, making the umbrella fall as he releases it and pulls Mikasa closer to him. He doesn't mind the rain, and so does Mikasa. They are against each other, cold and have been consoled and nothing could be even better. For a while, Eren feels as if his body drops dead on the ground at what Mikasa does. God, they have done this for a thousand times; make it a million. And it tugs at his amusement as he smirks at the stupid fact that this particular kiss, done after loosening the hope, after reluctantly reaching for the gold ring, under the midnight rain that he has been a complete and an utter phony.

God, Mikasa is his goddam gold ring.


End file.
